Honey came home sporting a kerchief. She is the Chief sporting, recreation, toy, and herding dog on the place now. Her sport is frisbee. Her recreation is napping sandwiched between the coffee table and sofa. Her toy nature is to greet everyone exuberantly when she is pleased with the situation (like saying goodbye to everyone at the grooming salon). And her favorite herding function is getting the cats up fro morning kibbles. Now lets see how long I can keep her clean.
The Royal Regal Pelagorium is showing it’s beauty these days. I was so happy to get a few of the cuttings to take root. They are a tricky little lot. I think doing them in the humidity dome in the house would work better. Maybe next fall. Nevertheless there are enough for sharing!
Well, I know I promised not to USE my family in my blog, but this event was so special to me. On the occasion of my 55th birthday, my daughter happened to be playing in the symphony. So about that yesterday… I insisted that it would be a great time to introduce the grandchildren to the symphony! And it was a Disney film “Aladdin” on top of it all. So we ALL went to the live symphony film production. The cutest was when said cellist asked little Isaac if he was ready for the move. His reply was “NO! I’m going to the symphony.” Then after the concert, all he could do was talk about the MOVIE! Out of the mouths of babes…. It was just darling. Thanks be to cellist’s hubby for paying for all the treats. He insisted and we would have no wrestling matches or fights on my birthday. So, yeah. What fun!
I finished the Salsa ‘n’ Chips gingham afghan that I started in less that ten days. It is very adorable actually. Even though I don’t really care for the color combination. Lots of other folks like it. All done.
So, about yesterday… usually means some sort of confession is about to take place. And perhaps one is in order. But other than telling you I through a whole lot geranium cuttings away during the last month of cleanup and tidy in the greenhouse, there is not much to say. I already said how old I am which is something no woman ever does. I admitted that someone else paid for my celebration. I am not real sorry for using a picture of my family, so there’s that. Ummm… Maybe I should just quit before the real truth gets told!
Psalm 121: 1b, “Where does my hope come from?” Or rather what help have I when there are no hills to look for? Does the Maker of Heaven and earth lend His Hand to my aid? Yet I have stumbled and even fallen. Here it seems that my toe has caught upon every stick and stone in my path. All this week in my weakened state, I have not slumbered, I have not slept. Sickness knocked at my door, yet here I am.
Psalm 42:5, “Why so downcast? Oh my soul? And why are you in such turmoil within me? Hope in God; for I shall again praise Him, my salvation and my God.” Indeed, I have come through this week with a new thought for the Holy week. What about Saturday?
Friday’s dark hour of death and my Lord’s shadow upon the day of Passover’s Memorandum. The Kingdom of the the Son of man and the Son of God had come to this: Death on a cross. We cannot grasp the gravity of the whole. We cannot fathom the depth of despair. We cannot grasp the gift of grace so freely given. Yet here it is every year. The grief of the women at the foot of the cross. The awe of soldiers as the “King of the Jews” gave up His majesty for a criminal conviction. Good Friday is the day of darkness with an earth shattering rending, wrenching display of the ugliness of sin. Amidst the pain and confusion God spread out his Love on full display and gave His only Son as the Ransom for us. Once and for all, a redemptive act of everlasting kindness. The bridge over the gulf of separation, guilt and shame.
Saturday’s sorrows must have been bitter and gripping. The sadness that threatened to steal away every hope. How can one go on in the midst of such deep loss? How could the women have rested on that Sabbath day and made plans for the morrow? How could the disciples have found each other in the turmoil of emotions and confusion? What had gone so wrong?
But God is Sovereign in Saturday also. Is He not? There is no mention of the day in the scriptures. There is no mention of the gatherings, or lack of get togethers. There is no mention of the attempt to mend the cloth of the Holy of holies. There is no talk of this unrestful day between the sacrifice and the Son’s rising.
How did their hope carry them through the day? How did their fear shut them in? How did their sorrow grieve them? Were they sifting through the memories? Were they searching for a string of help? Did they have belief in Christ’s return?
What do I want to see? What am I seeking when I rise early in the morning and tend to my garden tombs? What hopes, dreams, sorrows, dispair have I buried and not returned to embalm? What love carries me to the grave side?
Sifting through sorrows sounds impossible. Even considering the way that loved ones are layed to rest has some unfeeling character to it. Considering one’s sorrow more tragic a loss than another’s is like take apathy to a new level of morbidity. There must be a cinder box of empathy when handling the emotions of grief. Defining one’s own loss as more or less would be like sifting Saturday’s sorrows while panning for gold. Is one person’s loss worse than another’s?
Saturday’s sadness from the Holy week is not considered in the whole of the story. Unless of course you consider the life of the betrayer, Judas. And the hopeless estate of his pieces of silver in relation to the whole event seems to be a touch out of the hand of providence. Or was it true that just as this had been prophesied, God was sovereign even in this case also? How do we find hope in the depths of the mire?
The Psalms repeated tell us to “Look Up!” And so it is truth, when we look at ourselves, when we look at others, when we look down, we feel the inevitable pull of the gravity even upon our very souls.When we look at the cross we see love. Love deeper than any ocean, wider than expansive sky, farther than from here to there.
Sabbath rest is the promise that toil is not eternal. Sabbath rest is the Creator’s promise of sovereignty of God. Sabbath rest is the hope that carries us through the ashes. Sabbath rest is my Lord and Savior offering me a love unlike any other. We shall have rest from our labors. “Come to Me, “ said my Lord Jesus, “all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.”
To escape reality many people choose a route that takes them down the illegal path. Some people just read books or do movie marathons. For the rest of us their is fishing or gardening. My husband hates bugs so fishing is never going to be our choice. I do like books and right now I dove back into my Sherlock Holmes collection. I am planning to find some Mark Twain next.
Escape rooms are the newest fashion for game time. Spending time as a work group, family group or just a date night at the local escape room is quite the entertainment. But I have an uncommon escape room.
My little geodesic dome garden dome is just the thing to get away from the monotony of winter and the doldrum of empty nest.
Struggle against boredom can be one of the stay at home prizes.
Commonplace greenhouses do not allow winter growing. Unless of course there is some sort of climate battery.
Three happy little flowers greeted me the other day. The first is a newly rooted cutting from a geranium that I bought on clearance last summer. there are a number rooted out but this is the first to bloom. The double pink blossom is a beauty. the next bloom is from the Gerbera Daisy that is now third season from rooting shares. I have six little plants but this is the first to send up a bloom. And the third bloom comes from a cutting rooted out from a geranium that has given me quite the challenge. I have had the plant for five years but this is the first time success came from the cuttings. Yay! I finally got some of the red violet to take root.
Outside after the drifts of snow have begun to disappear, we find treasures or trash. The little bamboo cat dish caught me real surprised. I have never seen this before in my life. An internet search proved it is a recent dish and it is an excellent specimen. My guess is that our little bulldozer Eva brought it from somewheres. Where did she go visiting is the question. It is a full mystery never to be solved. It makes a very nice saucer for the latest Gerber Daisy “pale pink” that I have added to my collection.
Yes, I finally succeeded at the crochet thing once again. Found this little pattern on YouTube but I fail to find the author. The description led me on a goose hunt. Bummer. I do look forward to another attempt though.
Today I am giving the world my silent treatment. My voice suffered a harsh blow with a recent virus attack. The first symptoms were sore throat and a constant tickle. Then unfortunately I failed to sleep one night from the annoying cough and then it happened: I choked on a vitamin meant to aid in healing. I was not aided in health but the illness continued it’s downward spiral. Being this is such a common occurrence for me, I do not take much alarm but attempt to occupy myself with the same remedies.steroid treatment from the doctor and constant snacking on soft foods and sipping water around the clock. I am no stranger to the health remedies of this throat ailment. I use to get this in the fall with the onset of rainy, moldy leaves. Now it seems getting it in the spring with the snowmelt and the return of spring rains is a new normal.
Enough about poor little old me. There are so many people that I know suffering some ailment or another. The prayer list is long these days. And meanwhile there are many celebrations coming up in the next few months. Birthdays, weddings, bridal showers, open house for the greenhouse and more seedlings to plant. I better get back to work.
“It’s not what I asked for Sometimes life just slips in through a back door And carves out a person And makes you believe it’s all true And now I’ve got you And you’re not what I asked for If I’m honest I know I would give it all back For a chance to start over And rewrite an ending or two For the girl that I knew” —Sara Baralles
In this song by Sara Baralles “She Used to be Mine” we see the mirror telling the truth that hurts. Looking into the mirror and seeing ourselves as we really are is hard sometimes. This week as we said goodbye to our old rescue Eva lots of emotions took root and many were a surprise bubbling up from the deep.
Eva was one of those bulldozer type doggies. She was a trash compactor that never understood her time for puppy-hood had long passed her by. As a breeder’s mama she was the leader of her pack many times over. We never knew her as a mama puppy. Her favorite come call was “Come Puppy Come!” But as a retired breeding mother we saw the puppy that she never got to be.
“Good girl” is not the most common thing we said the first year of her retirement here. She was such a thief. Gloves, buckets, mittens, Tupperware’s, dishes, and any thing else misplaced would be found in her stash in the window well of the old house. Tennis balls were the fastest to disappear in her presence. I do not know how quickly she could take what was not hers. So yeah, she tested out her welcome something terrible.
Eva tested her welcome for the first year or so. She came to us at nine or ten years old. No longer cycling, she was of no USE to her owner any more. It was sad to see that this old mama had bonded with so many puppies and kids through the years. All that left her. She learned not to give her affection to readily to people because everyone always left her. Her puppies all left her. All the little kids that came to pick up her puppies all left her. We left her home frequently, too. And sometimes I get sad just thinking how her little tail barely ever wagged with great delight.
Eva would grow so attached to our “company” that for several days after someone’s visit she would refuse food. It was always a challenge to convince her with some good vitals that we were still here for her. Bone broth, chew bones, or a good stair step visit would help some. She did try to keep up with Honey in a game of fetch and was the best retriever I’ve ever known. Old mama Eva was so happy whenever our daughter’s “puppy” came to visit. But He grew up too fast.
There is a new song by Courtney Hadwin called “Breakable” (Now you know my guilty pleasure music listening list.). Knowing that each person is easily hurt or broken hearted is key to understanding relationships. We are all so vulnerable. Seeing each dog that I have owned as a personality that is easily hurt and sometimes lonely for companionship is key to diving into what makes him or her tick. Eva simply did not have those strong bonding cues. Yes, she loved food. Yes she was good at fetch. One of the best in fact. She just never had that soul piercing eye contact. Until the last few days.
When she decided to refuse good food and start barking at the door so frequently. I knew she was either getting done with her solitude outdoor living or something was wrong. We had a number of wild critter move through the acreage this spring. Eva did not even try to chase anything away this winter. She spent her time circling the house rather than chewing on the bones we offered to her. How much longer could she keep up this incessant circling? Was she looking for me to fix something?
How to bring back the fire in her eyes? That lady in the mirror does not look like me. Where has she gone? The person that I use to be is still in there, right? That woman that I see now is lonely most of the time. It was not until Eva hit the last week that she began to look into my eyes with that soul searching gaze.
Old dogs can seem like such a bag of bones. We have lost several dogs from old age. The first was our little black lab lady. She also was much of a bulldozer personality and had the “mothering” instinct in her. Lady never had any puppies. She was our dog when the girls were little kids and she became the protector of us all. She hunted on her own the bad ones and left the smelly ones alone. Lady took out coyote puppies, woodchucks, squirrels and raccoons. And blessing be, she taught our collie Dolly how to do the same. Dolly is the one we had in mine during Eva’s last days.
Dolly bonded with our second daughter most. She learned her lessons well from Lady and could sound like a pack of hounds when she took off after a stray coyote. They did not try to venture by our property very often. Even if they were far north in the property line a quarter mile distant, Dolly would let them know she was fierce and bold. In reality she had such a timid nature with us it has hard to get her to listen to our commands. Diabetes was her old age enemy. We saw so much of Dolly in Eva the last month or so. We just could not let the disease take Eva the same way.
They say beauty is in the eye of the beholder. There were a lot of people that Eva quite ugly. She did not look so bad when she first arrived. Honey took her ear in a doorstep scrap right off the beginning of her stay here. And the vet refused to do surgery because Eva was so old. So the pigskin ear did not help her short little stature to be satisfying to the eyes. Being bathed in the beutiful past, left her mammary membrane quite the saggy baggy. Some children simple could not handle the visual effect.
Eva did have an unlikely buddy for her last winter. She never grew up with cats and was kin to like them until she came here. One of the old cats let her know who was boss the first day she arrived. She had a way of completely ignoring their existence. However, Tabitha was an orange tabby that is now on life number five or six and understood Eva needed a Buddy. Though Company the calico had the right to eat with Eva, Tabitha was the one that slept with her in the hut.
Short, stout Eva never liked the stairs. Perhaps it was her stature. She was so short. Poor thing. She would look at the top step and try to leap all of the steps at once. Because she rarely took the stairs, I knew something was not right when she began to come to the front door and give one loud demand. Letting go of what seemed to never really be mine was not as hard as I thought it would be.
Good friends are hard to come by. Watching Tabitha “care” about Eva not feeling very good was sweet. Eva also succumbed to deafness this last winter and missed much of the calls to come. The last week she had her eyes glued on the house and never missed my comings or goings. So this winter I took her with me to the greenhouse every time I went down there. Most of the time Tabitha came with also for the warming session.
Knowing better next time will help me make the future dog choices. Eva was such a pack animal leaving her outside alone for hours on end was bound to end badly. She had never been in the house her whole life, so I knew having her in the house was not an option. I really had not expectHoney and Eva to become besties. Our hope was that an old dog would perhaps settle our kangaroo doodle down to a smaller hop. That has yet to be seen.
If Honey is thought of as sticky and messy, than Eva should be though of as the opposite of a bonding glue. We often called Eva a bulldozer. But maybe she was more like a wrecking ball. We just did not know where it would swing and what item would next disappear. I think I do her an injustice by saying that though. She simply did not have that sticky bonding nature that some dogs have. But then neither does Honey.
Though Honey does her job well (sometimes) she will not stick with me on the sofa. This last month while I have tried to get Honey to stay by me in the house, Eva proved she was almost my tail! There were days I had to look between my legs to see her. She got so good at reading my moves that I never knew if she was heeling. She would turn when I turned my head one way of the other and I never saw her behind me. She was the best ever at the game of “Shadow!”
Yellow ribbon of memory and gold threads of character do not make up the story of Eva. We did not get her good years. Our short little Eva has much too short of a tale to tell. We got the tail end. I knew how the story would finish when we brought her home. It just never comes when you expect it.
We told Eva she was a good girl. We told her we forgave her for all the things she stole. We told her we were sorry for the way things end. We wished that the story could be written differently. We enjoyed every thump of her tail that we got. We told her that she would be missed. We told her it was okay to go. We would not keep her for our own selfish reasons. Eva was sure to get the best pot of gold a little yellow Labrador retriever could get in the rainbow beyond. And if ever I see a golden thread in a rainbow I will think of her.
The temperatures are so cold I had to walk backwards from the barn to the house this morning. And I just looked up my weather and found out that was the warm hour. It is only going to get colder. Thank goodness it is only for a day or two. The winter week of windy blast did happen in December-January. The roller coaster weather continues.
Along with the cold came some snow and with the interstates closed down, my hubby is at the desk in the library. So I am back tot he little secretary in the kitchen. A bit of a “catch-all” the desk always has to be cleaned off just to do anything.
My little fig tree in its first year is so adorable. I moved the most ardent growing one into a square planter. I have to find one more for the other one. It is a little slower in its growth. The tree on the right is older by another year. Last year it tried to fruit. So I am hopeful for some fleshy figs this year.
Shared some greenhouse updates on social media and enjoyed the interactions. Geodesic dome gardening is a class of it’s own for sure. And learning how to balance the plant life is a challenge. I sure hope I get some edible greens going in there soon. I miss them. The little fig trees are fun to watch grow. Keeping the roots capped seems to be the key to a smaller “bush.”
My greenhouse has many little turtles or tortoises in it. I is because I think of the story of the hare and the turtle when it comes to things green. The hare thinks of everything as a race to the finish, rushing about and such. Whereas the tortoise knows that slow and steady wins the race. So last fall I buried these little grape hyacinth in the soil hear in the grow bed just in front of the little turtles nose. To my delight the little bulbs put forth their green sprouts this last week during the last bitter cold of the winter!
Above are two of the sweetest geranium blooms I could find the other day. The one on the left is a new cutting rooted from one of the host plants that I received from a neighbor. The little plant is such a vision of hope! And the one on the right is another cutting rooted form a friend who is my longest plant host. The plant just blooms and blooms and never seems to tire of putting forth the beautiful peaches and cream blossoms.
My experiment with the Tabasco pepper plant is working well. And I did survive planting them. I would like to try growing one in the greenhouse since I have so many. The night time temperatures are still hovering at 45 degrees so It will be another month before it can be re-homed there. The house will just have to find another shelf for the temporary garden growing.
My mental road block continues on the crochet thing. The mittens are a disaster so even though I keep ripping them out to try again, “Michael Finnagin” seems to be winning. I made a little basket in between the attempted mittens. But I am determined to try again. Success in one area is often off set with failure in another area. But just like Edison I’ll get that light bulb one of these days!
The threats must be working, because Honey has been sitting on my lap for a spell first thing most mornings. A couple of weeks ago my alone-life was driving me to the puppy stores. So I began looking. Looking at Border Terriers, Rescue puppies, and Shih Tzus. I keep telling her that if she doesn’t take to cuddling some, I will find one that will. They are all empty threats until I actually took a call from on of my soft inquiries. Soft, literally.
The “craving” for a cuddle – bug- dog was getting pretty rough. Ruff, ruff. I actually saw a little Shih Tzu in town one day and spend a few minutes purring over the soft fluff. I asked all kinds of polite questions and found the little gal to be quite nice.
Home I went to do my idle threats. I looked, and searched, and found several local puppy breeders. Just empty threats
Like my mother’s threat to break my plate when I left home. Really? It’s probably why my dad’s graduation gift to us was luggage not the furniture in our bedroom. I tried to beat my mother to it. One day while unloading dishes from the dishwasher, I broke six plates all at once by catching my elbow on something and dropping them back down into the dishwasher. I broke a lot of things while a teenager because of ny hasty activities. The chandelier glasses were no match to the table leaves. The stairwell window was no match to my speed in rounding the corner and my shoulder. I don’t know why parents of my era said such mean things like threats to break plates, but it felt like rather than helping us to fly out of the nest, I was being pushed out of the nest by them cutting the tree down.
So here I sit in the background of all my daily activities, wondering what on earth I would want more chores for. My life is pretty peaceful right now. The garden will require more energy soon, I tell myself. Enjoy the lull before the storm. (Really, I ought to try to sell some of this crochet stuff.)
So I began an easy C2C again. This time it is the gingham pattern and it will have a smaller scale checked border. I have seen the pictures several times and really wanted to do this. So now that I have some yarn stash on hand, I was able to put together the three tiered color scheme. I do love how easy this patter is to crochet and it keeps my fingers occupied while i listen to books.
We found another movie worth mentioning last night. It is the life of Beatrix Potter. I had forgotten that I actually had the tales that she wrote in my audible books library for the little kiddos when I am with them. Lots of tales of things with tails. All sorts of childish imagings and critters with clothes! So I took some time to listen to some of her wonderings.
Toddlers are pleasant things to display cuteness. It’s the hungry, tired, or cranky child that drives mothers mad. Their little minds are so busy with thoughts and feelings. I wonder at times that I ever really grew up. It is so enjoyable to pick their little brains and prick their imagination.
The greenhouse is a maintenance mode right now. I learning that certain size containers are on a Monday-Wednesday-Friday water schedule. The rest of the house is once a week depending on the sunshine and the heat. Some days it can get up to eighty degrees in there. I don’t like working in there when it is too hot. the other day this little pink geranium greeted me. I am so glad most of the cuttings have taken root. I lost so many to water rot that I had to switch tactics and root many in direct soil.
Miss Potter‘s success during her era has really inspired me to keep writing. I love movies’s and books about writers. Though we have hit the garbage pail a few times on the ‘writer’s death mystery’ movies. Those will just have to stay a mystery. Not enjoyable at all. Sorry for the suspense and thriller films.
Meanwhile, I let not my own little wishes be a constant temptation. Solitary confinement has a way of reflecting the inner sanctum. Why does spending so much time alone seems to muddy the mirror? So I went back to the Hearts of Fire entries and listened to the story of Richard and Sabina Wurmbrand. They are the founders of voice of the martys publishing. What an inspiring story of faithfulness and fidelity. I suddenly feel so very insignificant and small.g
I John 3:3, “And everyone who thus hopes in Christ Jesus purifies oneself as He is pure.” And so I began where I best, by cleaning the house that I live in. The boxes and such need to be removed I told myself. They are empty and are no longer needed. Their purpose fulfilled by carrying some forgotten shipment, I stacked them all to carry out to the dumpster. I went back in to check the room for any more stray objects and found the wall with my head.
A day later, my brain fog and dull headache are still ailing me. Why must I hit my head every time that I try to clean house? Because my eyes get tired and fail to sweep the projected travel plans for oncoming traffic. Ugh. I actually ended up falling asleep early last night, and my husband did his version of cleaning. (He cleans with disinfectants and solubles that make the air smell fresh. However, mush of the out of place items are left for me to put away or dispose of-not complaining.)
Last time I went to the chiropractor for an adjustment I decided it was harly worth it to feel better, for then I usually hit my head, run into a half open door, or fall. Thus, misadjusting the previous betterment. Why bother? Here’s to purifying the smudged mirror.
Fifty one days until the first day of spring! And we had a real nice snow on Saturday morning. About eight inches of the white fluff to blanket our whole area. With my eye sight finding the way from the barn back to the house was a challenge. Everything was white. The fire pit was even buried now. And that butterfly garden winter interest was no longer visible. Thank goodness the ‘ugly’ old lilac bush was still sticking above the snow for something to aim at. It made me think of the winter days of long ago. The stories of Great Grandpa shoveling himself a tunnel to and from the barn each time he went out to milk the cows. I am thankful my milk comes in a jug in the fridge!
Practice stitch study has been a long time coming. I don’t think there is a crochet stitch that would be new to me. But practice I did. The idea is to make a reversible item. For those unfamiliar with the art, the front and back looks fairly identical. Of course, I can even find the backside of the oldest crochet doilies, because I know the stitch directions. But, my husband can only tell the backside by the stripes of a mosaic crochet pattern. So study I did.
In this technique the stitch is wrapped around the whole previous row so that the back mirrors the pattern. There is a technique of continuous flow that uses blank spaces to create a true reverse imaging affect. I find that option to be much “pixelated” and the pattern seems less defined to me. It took me a couple rows to figure out where the stitch should be placed. I am happy with the result.
Then after two sleepless nights, still not sure why, I found Sunday to be a day of complete rest. Yes, I played piano for church. No, I did not help my hubby with any of the kitchen duties. Yes, I tried a nap. It was unsuccessful.
In defiance of winter, my life always has some touch of spring. Here below is the window planter in the library. The aloe, and mother in law plant are doing well. The kalanchoe is putting on some blooms to wag it’s tongue at the snow outside. The little canna seeds are sprouting. Some took longer than others. So thankful my hubby could score all the seeds with a razor to get the process jumpstarted. The canna lilies in the greenhouse look a little tough. Giving them some bulb tone fertilizer has helped. Though it took nearly a month for them to bounce out of their winter duldrums.
February is literally just around the corner. This month is more seed started. And the greenhouse gets rearranged to make room for seed started in the grow beds. So it’s time to put January to rest and find new happenings to consider in February. Unfortunately it is not time to say goodbye to the bitter cold as this week proves to put on some more records. Brrr.
In the greenhouse it was carpeting day recently. The geraniums were beginning to shed their petals all over the place, so to beat them at their game, I helped. Usually carpeting day is done monthly, but this time six weeks had passed. Winter is like that though. The cloudy days of this cold time don’t produce as many flowers. So by the time the “beheading” occurred more flowers were poking through. The little I-think-I-can blooms are so fun to see after the floor is all swept up and I make my rounds checking soil moisture et cetera.
In the cat huts the felines take up naps at sentimal watching. It never ceases to amaze me how many kittens can be in one hut. One day their were four in one hut and the last one had to keep poking a head in to see if there was room yet for him. It is funny to watch. This boxed foam cooler makes a “pur-fect” watching spot for Tabitha. She has become my new petted pet after Autumn left us.
In the barn, or shall I say “mouse house” we are busy watching out for the rodents now. They recently ate a hole in the horse feed bucket. Might have to get a metal can with a lid to keep them out.
In the starting tent installing lights was not cheap. I am considering letting them go much longer on. I think tomorrow is one week and nothing has popped through the soil yet. Patience is difficult when it seems like time is wasting away while I wait. There are so many more seedlings to start in the next month. I have an empty shelf at the moment and may find something to begin there.
In the people house the blanket is just about complete. Of course deciding how big to make it is the question. I am still doing a google reader on the tabernacle book that my mom gave me. But I also began L.M. Montgomery’s “The Story Girl.” It keeps my mind occupied when my hands are twiddling.
Allergic reactions are part of my new normal, I guess. And I had another one last night that required a Benadryl for relief. So I am missing out on my usual weekly visit with the grand children. It’s making me feel a little bummed. But the allergic reaction about had me in tears. So much for planning my days and weeks.
This entry took me a few days. The blanket is finished. And there are seedlings popping out of their tomb’s in the growing tent. The rose bush in the greenhouse nearly died of over watering-oops! And we are are now on season 2 of the Chosen. Now what? I ask myself this often these days. Now really following a daily list of any sort. I hear my hubby’s work calendar and my head spins. Simple life for me please.
Most people do not understand dog language. Thump, thump, thump, thump…. The other morning when Honey had to stay with me at my daughter’s for the day, the sound was rather loud and annoying. Can’t she just be quiet? The children are sleeping, aren’t they?
Then the pitter patter of little toddler toes told the truth. She heard then talking in the bedroom before I hear their toddling feet. Honey’s tail did not lie. The little bambinos were up for the day.
“A dog’s tail never lies.“. Understanding the teeth, barred, hackles, raised and stiff tail is the sign of territorial challenge in dogs is important. But always look beyond the head to the tail if confusion exists. A wagging tail is a friendly tail, so “they” say.. Unfortunately some people are blind to dog talk.
It is with this is mind that I began this new leftovers mosaic lap-ghan. Some dog tails go side to side, some go thump thump, and some go in a circle. Some just trail behind and pick up all of the weed seeds, sticks and leaves in the path. At this point in our lives we have the thumper, Eva, and the swish-swish, Honey.
I finally decided it was best to pick the rose in the greenhouse and bring it in for our enjoyment. My daughter’s birthday was over the weekend and we chose to make a road trip the other day, so I would not be going to the indoor garden to smell the rose. Best let it be in house and we could smell it each time we pass by the table. It is so beautiful. The yellow is such a pale color and the smell is outrageous.
My husband bough me the last “Christmas wish” gift last week. The new starter station is put together but the plants will be started this week. My seeds in the library are all collected and put in order today, so maybe tonight the little seeds will meet the soil.
The two for one book that I got from the state library is finished. The second title was “Lost in Yellowstone Nat’l Forest for 38 days”. A tale of survivor Truman Everetts. Not something I would want to do. I don’t even handle being alone for 12 to 14 hours some days. That’s one of the strong reasons that I have a dog. So that I am not alone…
Today, I received a “shallow cup of care” in the form of a text message from a relative. I did not answer it. I find I am rather “short” of patience or kindness towards others in my responses. So I simply cannot respond. Went to my audible app and found the book “How to hug a porcupine.” Very fitting for my time in life. Last night we had a possom eating the cat food bits that were left. Hubby tried to shoot the fat thing but had to poke it with a stick to get it where nothing else could be damaged. This morning I found a rat in the bottom of the horse feed bucket. Needless to say the only cat tthat barn hunts was Oliver and he was too late.
So I am on to my blanket some more. Another book. Another week. More seed starts to begin. And Honey took ALL the toys out of her toy basket to entice me to play with her as the weekend was a little short on our play time. It’s Monday and it’s raining in January.
So did I forget to mention that I made it through a whole day of out and about with my girls? The morning was not too bad with the swimming hole outing with the little kids. I did feel rather helpless during the dressing and leaving stage. My poor daughter had to shower and dress all three of her little kiddies and help with me. She is such a good mom and has quite a plate full with her little ones all under five years old. And then lunch was slow going, and we went shopping the rest of the afternoon while my son-in-law did the “best daddy ever” chore of keeping the kiddos at home. It was lovely to have some time with my girls as our Christmas got so mixed up. They really have no clue as to how much I miss them throughout the year. I used my guide cane while shopping to keep me grounded. It is really is hard to miss all ov the facial expressions etc when being with people.
The chicken cooking in the oven is calling me to pull it apart. So I guess this is it for my Monday mumblings.
Yvonne Annette 